Wolfmoon
by OpheliaCasket
Summary: Cheslock is deeply disappointed by Violet and wishes him to hell. Shortly afterwards, another mysterious serial killer is up to mischief. In order to solve the case, Ciel is dependent on Violet, who asks for only one favour in return: To be able to meet his former fag again...
1. Chapter 1: Memories

_**This story is based on Kuroshitsuji by Yana Toboso. Of course, I do not own her characters and I´m not getting any profit out of this. If you find many mistakes in grammar and orthography, I´m sorry, but English is not my native language. **_

_**The story is in progress, so other chapters will follow. Please enjoy!^^**_

* * *

It was four months ago since Cheslock was appointed to be the new prefect of Violet Wolf. An exceptional honour, of which most boys could only dream of. His parents were so overwhelmed that they bought him a brand-new harpsichord, made of the finest African mahogany.

Indeed, he was proud. Suddenly he became more than a moody, odd-looking musician. He became _a person to be respected. _He wished that **_he_** could see him. He wished that **_he_** could see him walking across the lawn, dressed in a purple waistcoat. He wished that **_he_** would be proud of him too.

Lying on this bed, he recalled all those happy memories featuring **_him_**. That day when he met him for the very first time. Gregory Violet. His former prefect. His friend…. **And love**.

"Do you actually realize that you broke five rules this week?"

"I can´t remember." The younger boy with the huge scar shrugged.

"Sneaking into the music room in the middle of the night, playing the organ and keeping everybody awake …"

"Oh, this was only once!"

"…, setting food on the lawn, without being prefect…."

"That´s a silly rule."

"Stealing hydrogen peroxide from the lab to bleach your hair. That´s an original one."

"Listen, I know all of this. Now could you just give me my Ys and end this nonsense?", the younger one begged.

The prefect stepped towards him, very closely. Too close for Cheslock´s liking.

He never actually saw his prefect´s full face, because his hood concealed it, but now Cheslock actually realized how beautiful he was. His face was of a delicate pallor, framed by raven-black streaks of hair. His eyes, lips and fingernails were painted black. Cheslock has actually never seen something like this before. Only in the theatre, where the actors wore white face-paint and dark shadows under their eyes in order to look like corpses. Indeed, his prefect looked like a vampire. Like Varney or Carmilla.

He had those alluring, fascinating eyes, looking like amethysts, filled with melancholy and disgust for the world.

"You don´t take this school too seriously, don´t you?", Violet whispered, taking Cheslock away from his daydream. "What is your name?"

"Cheslock", the junior mumbled.

"A very beautiful name. However, I cannot just punish you and let this matter rest. There must be a reason for your….rebelling."

Suddenly, Cheslock felt a little guilty. He never cared much about breaking the rules, but this time… he regretted it. The disappointment this angelic creature felt for him was just too much.

Shyly he uttered: " I believe I´ve always been this way…"

Violet´s face was still too close. It was hard for Cheslock to keep eye-contact with him without blushing.

After a while Violet stepped back, putting his hands in his trouser pockets.

"I do understand you. This school stinks. The only reason we are here is to please our families. No, to please society. I never wanted to be prefect, but I have to. We all have to obey the rules. This is how the world works. We are lucky enough to be in "Violet Wolf", so we still have our arts. A thing that is completely ours."

Cheslock ashamedly stared at the wall, avoiding Violet´s gaze. "I´m sorry."

"I know you aren´t a waster. But I have to punish you." Violet took a seat. "I´ve heard you are a musical genius. They say you can master any instrument in no time. So I want you to play me a lullaby every night. For the next two weeks."

Cheslock looked up in relief. "Are you serious?" – " I am! My nurse has never sung me to sleep. Now I demand a lullaby from you."

Cheslock couldn´t have dreamed of a better punishment. He played a different song on a different instrument every night and Violet observantly listened. Sometimes with his eyes closed, sometimes with his sketch block on this lap, drawing a picture that fitted the music.

He started to develop a deep affiliation with Violet.

Cheslock´s infringements decreased, but he remained a rebel. Every month or so a bottle of hydrogen peroxide-solution mysteriously disappeared from the laboratory. Mainly because Violet was thinking about getting a white streak to contrast his remaining black hair.

"I really like your hair, Cheslock."

"Well", replied Cheslock, "I don´t. I think it´s boring as hell. I look like a fucking square!"

"Do you know the Mohawk tribe? Or the Pawnee tribe?"

Cheslock shook his head.

"The men of those tribes remove parts of their hair and let the rest of it stand up. It looks really funny."

"I really can´t imagine…-" Before Cheslock could express his doubts, Violet drew a sketch of Cheslock, showing his lateral hair shaved and the middle standing up like a fan.

"That looks wild! I love it!", Cheslock shouted in excitement.

"Do you want me to do your hair? I also could show you how to use henna to paint your eyelids."

Of course he wanted to. Soon Cheslock turned into a creature far ahead of his time. And it felt incredible! He felt like he could finally be himself. His father would hate it, of course, but he didn´t care at all.

A couple of weeks later, some students of Violet Wolf started to copy Cheslock´s and Violet´s style. It really bugged him.

However, the more time he spent with Violet, the more he began to love him. His looks, his awkward hiding from the sun, his misanthropy and social phobia, his amazing paintings and drawings.

He kept following Violet like a shadow. So of course it was only a matter of time until Violet asked Cheslock to be his fag.

Certainly, the obvious answer was:

"_**I humbly accept."**_

Remembering this moment, Cheslock felt his eyes becoming teary. He hated himself for this. He never cried. Not even because of _him_. Although Gregory has deeply hurt him. Not only because he rejected his love, but also because he was the accomplice of a murderer.

The day before the P4 had to leave the school for good; Cheslock took that final chance to confess his feelings towards his prefect. The last day of his fag-life, he helped Violet pack his things in his room. He couldn´t really think of a proper introduction, since he has never been a man of great words. So under great pain, shaking and pale like he was about to die, he just burst out with it:

"Violet", he said, his head lowered and his eyes on the floor, " I really feel….destroyed. I mean, I can´t really swallow the fact that…."

"I know." Violet didn´t look at his fag at all.

"I mean, ….I never expected you to do such a thing…"

"I´ve disappointed you."

Cheslock clenched his fist. He wanted to control himself as best as he could, but he ended up yelling:

"Yes! You know,…I love you, Violet. I adore you. Of course, I´m disappointed!"

Violet was visibly shocked. So much, he covered his face with his left hand. Then, he pulled his hood tighter.

"You do?"

"Yes, and I´m not really sure if this state will last, after all you´ve done! People died because of you four. And many more could have died at the Midnight Tea Party. You are not innocent in this! You are just as guilty as Greenhill!"

Violet kept silence for a while. But then he started to mutter, changing the subject: "Loving another man is a sin, you know?"

"Killing another man is also a sin", said Cheslock, "besides, I don´t believe in God. No enlightened, sane person should. I´m surprised that you come up with such an argument. You, looking like a ghoul…you suddenly play the religious one? "

Violet stood there, hunched, not really knowing, what he believed in. But Cheslock kept on ranting:

"Love is a normal and good thing. Even between men. In ancient Greece it was totally normal for a man to sleep with another man. How could God hate people like us, if he´s the one who created them?!"

"I don´t know. My parents taught me that…"

"Yeah, your parents. Your posh, benighted, fucking parents! You act like a profound, rebellious artist, but you´re nothing more than a mummy´s boy! Believe the shit your parents told you and **KEEP OUT OF MY BLOODY SIGHT!**"

With that said, Cheslock tossed Violet´s suitcase against the wall and slammed the door shut.

He never saw Violet again.

Still lying on his bed, Cheslock thought that he was wrong. Violet didn´t kill Derrick after all. He shouldn´t have shouted at him like that. He shouldn´t have wished him to hell.

He missed Violet.

It was noticeable that Cheslock´s fag looked a lot like him. He was not wearing a hooded cloak, nor he had a white strand of hair, but otherwise he was the perfect copy of Gregory Violet. At least visually.

Cheslock knew that he could never be replaced and it tore him apart.


	2. Chapter 2: Werewolf

An enormous crowd of people was gathered at the backside of the chapel. Scotland Yard had, indeed, a hard time keeping the bystanders away from the crime scene.

Ciel Phantomhive and his faithful butler Sebastian struggled their way through the bulge of humans who had the penetrating stink of misery clung to them.

Another reason why Ciel hated the city.

Soon, the smell of unwashed underclass and feces mixed with the smell of decay and blood.

"Oh, Lord Phantomhive. What a great joy to see you again!", commissioner Randall stated.

"You don´t need to be sarcastic, Lord Randall. We both know our little differences", Ciel remarked, "However, if it´s the Queen´s will to let me work with an incompetent pack like the Yard, so shall it be."

Randall darted a venomous look at Ciel, then he shouted: "Abberline, reveal the corpse!"

The subordinate slowly removed the cloth from the dead body, laying in a sea of blood.

Ciel abruptly covered his mouth with both his hands, trying not to vomit. Unpoised, he grabbed Sebastian´s sleeve, unable to keep his countenance.

This was worse than the Ripper-case, worse than anything he had seen before.

The corpse was one lump of shredded flesh, all over covered in blood. It must have been difficult to identify the body. Nevertheless, the ragged clothing suggested that this was a male person. Possibly a young male. The blood-soaked hair was black and his skin was of noble pallor.

"Sebastian! The smelling salt, quick!", Ciel spoke weakly.

With his usual "Yes, my lord" Sebastian did as he was told.

The strong fragrance managed to keep Ciel alert, but he wished he had fainted instead. He was visibly ashamed of himself, not knowing why this situation overwhelmed him so much, since he had seen many dead bodies in his life.

Lord Randall was sadistically amused to see the Queen´s guard dog in a state like this.

"Well", Ciel coughed, "he looks like a young man of gentility. How many corpses were exactly mutilated like this?"

"This is the fourth one. All boys from posh families. And the funny thing is: They all have been killed in the night of a full moon", said Abberline.

And Randall added: "This is why the people started all kinds of silly rumours that the killer might be..."

"A **werewolf**!", Sebastian replied with a smile.

"Yes", Randall answered.

"Commissioner!", a policemen shouted, "These people here assume that the dead person is their son!"

A group of four approached the commissioner. An older man and a lady in the front and another man and a boy hidden in the back.

The man in the front wore a black coat, adorned with wolf´s fur, dark grey pants and a black top-hat. He had shoulder-length, pitch-black hair; pale skin, hollow cheeks, bags under his eyes and a high forehead. He looked like something out of a gothic novel.

The women next to him was gracious and fragile, wearing a deep purple dress with a matching winter coat and hat. Her hair was the colour of ebony and her skin was almost as pale as her husband´s. The lady´s eyes were of a majestic purple and her lips the colour of roses.

The man in the back looked like a footman, according to his clothing and behaviour. He wore a grey tail coat with a crest on it, also a white tie. His dark hair was concealed by his hat.

But Ciel´s and Sebastian´s main attention laid in the young man by the side of the servant.

He wore a black coat, also adorned with fur. His face was covered by the hood of his coat, yet some black flicks of hair were visible, resting on the boy´s shoulders.

His posture was miserable. He walked hunched over with his hands in his pockets. Only his thumbs were showing. Tender and pale with black-painted fingernails.

"Violet", Ciel whispered. Sebastian nodded silently.

"I am Lord Thomas Violet. Are you in charge of the investigation?", the gentleman asked. His voice was unexpectedly deep. It made Ciel even more uncomfortable than his appearance. Now he knew why Gregory was such a gloomy weirdo.

"Yes", said Randall, "I am Commissioner Arthur Randall. And this is my-"

"Please forget about the formalities, Commissioner. We are in great worry. Our son is missing and it´s very likely that he is the poor victim!", Lady Violet cried.

Lord Violet gave his wife a harsh look. "You have to excuse my wife´s rudeness, but indeed...we need to know, if the dead person is our son Benjamin.

"That´s understandable. But I recommend not to take a look at the corpse. It´s a rather unpleasant sight. Especially for the Lady..."

"We **will** take a look at the corpse", Lord Violet firmly said.

Randall sighed. "Well...if you´d come closer..."

"AAAAAAAAHHHHHHHH!"

Lady Violet fainted.

Lord Violet, the servant and Gregory stood there with their heads lowered. The young one covered his mouth like Ciel did before.

"It is him", said the Lord.

"Are you certain? The face is quite irrecognisable."

"I recognise his hair, figure and clothes, Commissioner. That should be enough."

"Sebastian, give the smelling salt to the servant", Ciel ordered.

"Yes, my lord."

"And help the him carry Lady Violet back to her carriage."

The footman thanked Sebastian and Ciel a thousand times. And soon Lady Violet was brought away from the crime scene.

"And you are?", the Lord asked.

"Ciel Phantomhive. Earl Vincent´s son."

"Yes. I do know that name. I have to thank you and your butler. Would you accept an invitation to our mansion as a way to express our gratitude?"

"Certainly", said Ciel with his best poker face, but inside he truly wished to get away from this personified spectre.

"May I introduce you to my oldest son Gregory? Gregory, come here!"

In this moment Gregory, who seemed to not having noticed his father´s conversation, turned away from his brother´s corpse and – in shock - noticed Ciel.

Ciel finally saw his eyes, full of tears, washing away his dark eyeshadow. Now he was certain it was Violet.

Gregory, on the other hand, was clearly uncomfortable with Ciel being around, for he was the one who caused him expulsion from Weston College. But there was something else. Something about Ciel that made Gregory cringe.

"We already know each other", said Ciel, while Gregory´s eyes widened in terror.

_`` Why is he here? And why now?´´_

Ciel went on: "We met at Weston College."

"Weston...is that so?", Lord Violet muttered. Of course, Weston was to him like a red rag to a bull, ever since his son was expelled. "Benjamin was in Weston too. A fine school. Your parents must be utterly proud of you." He gave a scoul to Gregory who shamefully faced the ground. _`` This is too much´´, _he thought.

"My parents are dead", Ciel said with a bitter glance.

Later on in the carriage, Ciel described the encounter to Sebastian who seemed to be quite amused.

"How very odd. It seems you never get rid of Weston College. Am I right, my lord?"

Ciel sighed. "Indeed, it looks like I have to rely on the Violets in order to solve the werewolf-case, although I trust neither Lord Violet, nor his son: The former prefect of Purple House."

"So, you are going to visit the Violet mansion?"

"Of course, Sebastian. I am keen on having this mess finished."

"Is it, because the brutality of that murder brought you to your knees, my lord?"

Ciel stood up and slapped his butler´s cheek.

Sebastian was obviously surprised, but then he chuckled. "Apologies, master."

"Listen closely, nothing, I say **nothing** in the world will bring me down to my knees! This murder was bloody, perverted and disgusting. But I am no coward and I fear neither gore nor the killer himself, do you understand?"

"Perfectly, my young lord."


	3. Chapter 3: Deal

_**Thanks a lot for NinjaSheik who is a great critic. :P Especially, for clarifying that Cheslock is his surname, not first name. Silly me. Now he is first name-less. :D**_

_**"..." - spoken**_

_**``...´´ - thoughts**_

* * *

The mansion of the Violet's was exactly the way Ciel expected it to be: Elegant, but somehow frightening.

Purple, black and silver were the dominating colours.

The hallway was full of taxidermied ravens, bats and other mythical animals. Therefore, it was no surprise to find a stuffed wolf in the dining hall.

There were way too many wolves in this case, Ciel thought.

Ciel received an excellent meal, consisting of champignon-cream soup, lamb cutlet with seasonal vegetables and strawberry-parfait.

He had noticed that Gregory has eaten almost nothing. Lady Violet's appetite was also quite poor, which was no surprise at all.

Ciel thought it was fairly weird of Lord Violet to host a dinner party in times of mourning.

Did he care about his son's death at all?

Sebastian was with the other servants at that time. He had a difficult time identifying the last three victims. It became even more thrilling for Ciel, when he found out the connection between all the "Werewolf Case-victims".

**All of them were students of the Violet Wolf dormitory.**

Ciel was sure that socializing with the Violets was a necessity in this case. Even though he disliked the thought of being dependent on a freak who helped concealing a murder. What if he killed his own brother and all the other students out of jealousy, because they were in Violet Wolf** and he wasn´t **any longer? Derrick Arden´s death proved that Violet was obsessed with honour and tradition. And on top of that the wolf-symbol.

He instructed Sebastian to sniff around, but the best way to prove his theory, was to find the clues on his own.

"Gregory?", he said sweetly, "I'm really curious about your paintings. Everyone praises you for your talent. Will you show them to me?"

Gregory froze. What on earth was with this Phantomhive-kid?

"A wonderful idea", said Lord Violet, "Why don't you show your friend around?"

Violet swallowed hard. "Yes, father..."

Ciel was grinning internally.

Indeed, his room was full of his paintings, but also included the works of other artists.

The room itself was dark and rather chaotic. The curtains were closed, only candles illuminated the room a bit. There were painting utensils spread all over the floor.

"Your floor looks very messy. You should tell your maid", said Ciel.

"I told the maid not to touch my things, especially not my paintings. I dislike it", Violet murmured.

However, Ciel was fascinated with Violet´s works, just like back then when he saw him draw at Swan Gazebo, a couple of months ago.

He noticed a painting on the easel that Violet hadn´t finished yet. The motive was presumably inspired by Poe´s "_The Masque of the Red Death_". It was pretty logical that someone like Violet was a admirer of Poe. His bookshelves were filled with darkromantic literature. He owned stories from well-known, eloquent authors, as well as the most ridiculous penny dreadfuls.

"Why are you here?", Gregory suddenly asked.

Ciel sighed in relief. "Finally, we can drop the act. I am really tired of playing the gentleman."

"Do you have to humiliate me again?"

"I did not intend to humiliate you. My order was to find out what happened to Derrick Arden and his friends. And now my order is to find the Werewolf. I am the Queen´s guard dog and I will find the killer with or without your help."

"You want my help?", Violet asked sceptically.

"I need it, to be more precise. Your brother has been murdered, as well as three other boys from Violet House. It is quite obvious, why I approach you in this case."

Gregory pulled his hood tighter.

"I can't tell you anything. I'm not prefect anymore because of you. I know nothing."

"You must know something! Even if it's the tiniest clue. Don't try to blame me for your expulsion. It is your own fault after all. You can be glad your father did not repudiate you."

Those words brought Gregory to the edge. He despised this child. What did he know? `` But actually….he was right. Even _**he **_said it. **We are all guilty.** I´m just as guilty as Greenhill´´, he thought. ** ``I need you right now**.´´

"Very well, I will assist you. I will try to give you as much information as you need in order to solve this case. For my brother and for Purple House…"

``That was too easy´´, Ciel reasoned.

"…albeit not without reward."

`` That was only to be expected. I wonder what he wants. A first-rate-laugh?´´

"As an Earl you surely are capable of clearing my name, I guess. My family's reputation has suffered immensely because of my expulsion. And I have lost my only friend at Weston.

I want to make contact with him, but he won't speak to me. I want you to make me trustworthy again, so he might forgive me. Do that for me and I will be your ally."

Ciel had no idea how to whitewash Violet's reputation; he wasn´t even sure, if that was possible at all. As a nobleman, he knew how quickly people judge others. And once your reputation was stained, it was impossible to be respected any longer.

However, he managed to gain Violet's trust. No matter, if he was the Werewolf or not, he needed his knowledge about the victims.

"All right. I accept. What is this friend's name?"

Violet´s expression darkened. He avoided to say his name, until now:

"You know him. He used to be my fag. Cheslock."


	4. Chapter 4

**Hey guys, I'm back again.^^ I'm having a lot of stress because of university lately, but I still try to continue the story as fast as I can. I'm really grateful for all of your positive reviews, espicially since I thought about ceasing to write on the fanfic. Here comes chapter 4. ^^ I hope you enjoy. By the way, if you're interested: The title "Wolfmoon" was pretty spontaneously chosen. ;) It is a song by The Vision Bleak.**

* * *

Sebastian was indeed astounded at the deal between his master and Gregory Violet, especially since Ciel considered him a main suspect in this case.

The butler found out that he was the only one in the Violet manor who had no alibi whatsoever for the time between dinner and 11 o'clock, when a servant came to change Benjamin's clothes for the night, unable to find him. Lord and Lady Violet spent their evening in the living room, discussing the funeral. The servants were among themselves most of the time and none of them was unwatched for a longer time span. It was impossible for one of them to ride to London, kill the young boy and return to the manor without having their absence unnoticed.

Gregory, however, was unobserved after supper. He claimed that he spent the night sketching and reading, like most of his nights.

"I was wondering", said the Demon, "How can you possibly suspect Gregory Violet? He is way too weak to defeat person, or even to carry someone. But more importantly: Why are you trusting him, if he´s a murderer?"

Ciel raised his tea cup, inhaling the strong scent of the Assam. "Honestly, I do not know. Call it instinct. There is something about this case which is connected to Gregory. It must have been difficult for him to kill his brother without help, that's true. And it's bothering me indeed. But he is gravely suspicious. That's why I hope to gain his trust with our little deal, you see? If he's the killer, he might make a mistake and reveal himself as the culprit. If he's innocent, that's fine too."

He took a sip of the tea and smirked. "There are also other reasons, why I need Violet. For example the fact that all victims were in Purple House, Violet's former dormitory. Besides, the first three boys were found in or near Weston. The school is the key. Unfortunately I have no desire to investigate at Weston again. I don't think our disguise would work a second time. Besides...there are just too many people I don't want to see again."

Sceptically Sebastian raised his brow. "I do understand. But still, you committed yourself to do him a favour, didn't you?"

The little Earl looked at his cup and watched the light dancing on the surface of his tea. Then he dumped it down to the floor.

"That's what butlers are for."

With a bitter smile Sebastian watched the dark liquid slowly vanishing in the carpet. And with a submissive gesture he almost inaudibly uttered his usual line: "Yes, my young lord."

Of course he was used to his master's whims, but it felt like Ciel had been especially snarky lately. Sebastian asked himself if the transition to manhood was to blame, ever since he had found those stains on Ciel's bed sheet. It was the first time he had served such a young person; a person who was not fully developed yet.

Calm as always he ignored his master's ridicule. But yet, he felt slightly uneasy. Was it actually possible to offend, - no, to **hurt** a demon? Ciel could change his personality like the seasons, but he couldn't. Or could he? Did he become **human**?

"What was that boy's name again?"

"Cheslock", Ciel answered languidly.

The demon impatiently asked: "And the rest of his name?"

"I don't know. Neither does Violet. He says he never asked for his first name, even though he was his fag."

"Those Purple House students are really peculiar", Sebastian remarked with a shake of his head.

Only listening partway, Ciel stretched out on the elaborately adorned, royal blue divan- yawning loudly. He almost looked like a kitten.

"I don't care for the method. Use violence, if you need to, but get me that information. What is the connection between the victims? Who had the possibility to kill all of them? Why does he (or her) kill them in a full moon-night? And most importantly..."

The kitten-like innocence disappeared from Ciel's face. He pierced the demon's eyes with his eyes, as if he wanted to say: _"If you fail, our contract is invalid and you will never get my soul!"_

"...why is the culprit trying to make the killings look like a werewolf's act? It makes no sense. Does he want to scare the superstitious? Or does that symbol carry a deeper meaning?"

Sebastian's expression was completely and utterly numb.

"Or...", the boy's eyes widened, "...are there really supernatural powers involved?"

"Well, to my knowledge wolfmen do not exist. There are demons who are capable of taking a bestial shape like myself", responded the black-clad one, "But I'm not convinced that it was an animal that killed the boys. Their wounds were more like scratches than bites, my lord."

The adolescent's face turned deep red. "I would have noticed that too. I just wasn't...observing long enough." Sebastian realised he was being tactless, but his young master's recent behaviour was almost an invitation to tease him.

"There is another request", Ciel went on, "Contact Cheslock. Do something for our information source."

Sebastian distorted his mouth, faking a smile. "As you wish, my young lord."

* * *

Gregory was tossing and turning. An ineffably gruesome nightmare tormented the young boy.

He was in that alley in London. That eerie alley in which his brother's body had been found. The cobbled street was slippery by the rain, shining like a mob of fat, black snails. Between the houses old hags hung around, cackling, displaying their black, rotten teeth. They were shouting obscene things at him.

He was walking through the mist, nothing but pitch-black darkness around him. He was alone and naked. And again- he saw him. Benjamin.

Benjamin's shredded body.

His creamy white flesh was distorted by deep, crimson scrapes and greyish stains of putrefaction. Nothing left of the beautiful boy with the porcelain skin and onyx hair. Only pieces of meat.

Swarms of vultures descended from the jet-black sky to take Benjamin.

Gregory fell to the ground and set up a gut-wrenching scream of anguish. He banged his fist against the cobble, again and again. His fingers were stained red.

Suddenly one of the vultures landed in front of him and said: "It is your own fault, Gregory. You are a sinner and sinners must be punished."

"_Must be punished! Must be punished!"_ the other vultures cawed.

"We will take every person you love from you, until you have nobody but yourself."

And the other vultures chorused: _"Your own fault. Your own fault. Your own fault..."_

Gregory covered his ears, but their voices were right in his head. He became even more horrified when he heard _his_ voice.

"**Your own fault!"**

His skull seemed to explode. It was Cheslock's voice. In a twinkling, he stood right in front of him.

And all of the other vultures – in fact – turned into humans. And he knew every single one of them.

His mother. His father. The servants. Even Greenhill, Redmond and Bluer. They were all in front of him, chanting the same phrase over and over again.

Gregory screamed and screamed. His face was one grotesque grimace. Black tears ran down his face. And he desperately gasped for breath.

Lord Violet dug his teeth into the body and snapped off a big piece of Benjamin's flesh. His wife did the same and one after another followed. They were all feasting on the dead, rotting body of Benjamin, their mouths and hands blotched with blood.

"I'm sorry", Gregory cried, "Please! I regret everything! Don't eat him! DON'T EAT HIM!"

But they consumed the corpse up to the bone.

He couldn't move. He could do nothing but watch and cry and beg to be forgiven. The nauseating munching and the bloody faces of the human vultures, the bleak and misty street...the pure terror of this scene awakened an inescapable death wish in him.

"I can't take it anymore. Please,...take me as well", he whispered.

But the leader of the vultures, who had Cheslock's appearance, just answered: "No, you have to live with your sins. There is no one to save you and no one to love you. You have lost _my_ love and you have killed your brother."

"No! It wasn't me!"

"It doesn't matter. He had to die because of you!"

Gregory lowered his head. "It is...my fault?"

_My fault...My fault...alone..._

Painfully bright sunbeams impinged on Gregory's lids. His eyes opened very slowly.

For the first time in his life, he was relieved to feel the warm, radiant sun on his body.

Nevertheless, his dream was haunting him. What if _he_ was right? Gregory knew he had to operate. He didn't want to die as a sinner. No, he wouldn't. Never.

Quickly he rang for the butler.


End file.
